


Stormy Eyes

by KellerProcess



Series: Chaining the Trickster [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: And he likes it a lot, BDSM, Bisexual Loki (Marvel), Bisexual Natasha Romanov, Clint is a supportive but long-suffering friend, D/s themes, F/M, Femdom, Natasha dommes Loki, Natasha is a good domme, Sceneing, Virgin Loki (Marvel), and Tony is Tony, but they do play a part in the plot, covers Avengers to Thor: Ragnarok, graysexual Loki, most people in this story are bisexual btw, scene negotiation, sorry to Bruce/Natasha and Frostmaster fans but these pairings are only in passing, they won't be a main focus, unless they suddenly scrap the entire movie and let me write it ;p, will not be Infinity Wars compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-10 11:30:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13500872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KellerProcess/pseuds/KellerProcess
Summary: Outfoxing the so-called “god of mischief” was a real boost to a gal’s ego.Making him kneel felt even better.





	1. Chapter 1

Outfoxing the so-called “god of mischief” was a real boost to a gal’s ego.

Making him kneel felt even better.

Or it would, if he would just do it already.  
Natasha sat back in the black leather chair and waited, one leg crossed over her knee at the ankle, hands still on the armrests as she gazed across the equally black room. (Overkill? Well, too late now, I guess.)

Oh, he hadn’t liked that command at all. She could see it in the tic of his jaw, the frown pulling his brow into one long, sour, pouting lines that said he was brooding; the way his long fingers fretted into fists, then uncurled only to fret again. Yet he remained standing. His knees didn’t even quiver.  
_At least he hasn’t popped the gag out._ The wry thought made her own lips quirk. But while the sight of that pale, bare body beneath the light of the chandelier was both stunning and painfully arousing, she wasn’t going to reward bad behavior.

“Okay,” she said. Her leather pants crackled as she stood. “If you’re just going to waste my time and yours, I’ve got better things to do.”

When he’d realized he couldn’t talk her out of this, Clint had done that long-suffering sigh of his and run his hand through his hair like he always did when he was about to surrender.

“A word of advice, Nat? Whatever you do, don’t turn your back on him. He moves fast.”

It was a variation on a theme by now. Steve and Tony had warned her about his brute strength. (“You see that that fifty-thousand-dollar plate-glass window? Yeah, he used me to test if it was real safety glass,” Tony had complained.) Thor had warned her about more esoteric things like magic and self-cloning illusions. Fury had just blinked and asked her if she’d lost her damn mind.

And no one—no one—had dared tell Bruce. (“For God’s sake, we just rebuilt New York!” Tony had argued, and for once, everyone agreed with him.)

They meant well. She knew that. But they were all missing one very important point.

It was more dangerous _not_ to turn your back on Loki when you’d promised to do just that if he broke his promise. 

Because that’s what this evening was all about—keeping promises.

Natasha shifted her foot sideways and pivoted her shoulder—

Loki’s hand shot up, palm wide and crackling with the same green fire that sparked in his eyes. 

 

_Five years ago_

Loki’s eyes were first thing she noticed when he turned to her, not his wild, wavy hair or his elegant black-and-green clothing. Not even his pale complexion that always made him seem more than a bit ethereal.

They weren’t blue, as they had been during their last meeting. They were green. No, Natasha thought, more…oceanic. Yes, that same frustrating color that was neither blue nor green, but somehow both and neither.  
_Or maybe like a storm cloud. I guess they could also be that kind of gray laced with fire._

Whatever their color, they were looking right at her from the other side of three feet of glass reinforced by some Asgardian tricks even Thor couldn’t fully explain. It would be enough, though, he assured Fury, to keep Loki from causing any more trouble until SHIELD was finished interrogating him.

His lips parted in a whisper of a laugh before they pulled into his usual snake-oil grin. “That’s the second time you’ve sneaked up on me, Agent Romanov. If you aren’t careful, I’m going to start catching on.”

“Just like you caught on back on the Helicarrier?” 

The remark slapped the smirk right off his face. An even bigger and smarmier one took its place. “Is that it, then? Have you come to gloat?” He spread his arms out expansively. “Now that I’m to be held in this…ridiculous mortal prison, you think you can make sport of me?”

Natasha merely looked at him until his smile deflated into yet another mask: this one of curiosity.

“Or is it something else?” He raised his hands, palms up, and curled the tips of his fingers, as if doing so could tease the answer from her. “Does Fury believe I haven’t told him and everyone pulling his strings all that I know about the Tesseract? The Chitauri?”

“Well, that shit-eating grin sure fooled me.”

It shifted into a mock pout. “Really, Agent Romanov, I despise guessing games. They’re beneath even your stunted little species, don’t you think?”

A few days ago, he would have spat the insult at her, slammed his fist against the glass, bared his teeth—and he would have even believed in his anger. Hell, it had even fooled her for a split second. Now, though, it not only lacked conviction, it even lacked interest.

The only thing clearer than that was Loki’s failure to realize it.

She raised her hands to her hips. “Did you ever want to conquer earth, Loki, or were you just having a tantrum because Daddy didn’t love you enough?”

This time, the smirk really had been slapped off his face. Those oceanic, stormy eyes widened a fraction and Loki’s lips parted dumbly before a lazy smile wavered back onto them, like the picture on an old television being adjusted.

It lasted a moment, but that moment revealed something that had happened so quickly the last time they’d spoken, Natasha had thought she’d merely imagined it; put an intention into an attractive face to feel less guilty about the fact she found it attractive.

For just a split second, Loki’s eyes had held the same look. And her clit tightened in approval.

 

***

“Why did you go and see him?” Clint asked as he swirled a french fry through a mound of ketchup.

Natasha took a sip of her Coke. “Why do you keep ordering those?” Shawarma Palace may have had “the best shawarma in New York City,” but its crispy fries were neither crispy nor anything that would pass as a fry to anyone except an Asgardian—and Thor’s excuse for chowing down on them was that he simply didn’t know any better. Then again, he’d boasted that he could eat an entire boar in one sitting, so maybe he just didn’t care. 

Clint tilted his head, his expression thoughtful as he swallowed the nasty thing. “The same reason you get a Coke every time we come here, even though that drink machine’s seltzer is as old as the Carter administration.”

Why had she thought she’d get out of it that easily? “Tony got us all addicted to this place, and it’s free food?” 

Not that Shawarma Palace was the only restaurant in the city—or the country, even—where an Avenger could eat free for life. They were just the least annoying about it—and, well, she hadn’t been lying about Tony getting them all hooked.

“Mh,” Clint said before taking a chug of his own flat soda. “But talking to Loki sure isn’t free.”

A needle of guilt picked at her stomach. Clint would know. Better than any of them. 

“I’m not trying to say he’s harmless now—”

“Good. Bastard owes my therapist at least five thousand dollars.”

And there it was. Why had she let Clint talk to her about this again? Maybe this was a mistake. 

“What aren’t you telling me, Nat?” 

And there it was. Again. Lying to herself was so much easier than lying to Clint. But on the flip side, being honest with him usually meant that he’d understand, even if he disagreed.

Hopefully he’d still agree to talk to her after this.

She sucked in a breath and fortified herself with another sip of lifeless soda. “There’s something I have to find out.”

“Okay?” He spun his hand for her to continue. 

“When I told him what he’d revealed when he mentioned Banner, when he realized I’d beaten him—and that he only knew I had because I’d told him—there was this look he gave me.”

“What look?”

Natasha reached for her Coke and decided to hell with it halfway there. Clint was staring at her as if he already knew the answer. 

“I want to see it again,” she said, deciding not to insult him by overexplaining.

 

_Present day_

And now she had.

As green light sparked and serpentined through Loki’s fingers turning his eyes into chrysoprase, she saw it; that same surprise at being outplayed—

And that same flicker of desire.

For what felt like the hundredth time since meeting him, her clit pulsed. Still, Natasha didn’t turn back. She kept her expression just as neutral, observing, even as her mind cycled through a dozen reactions, a dozen responses if Loki did unleash his magic in her direction.

 _But he isn’t going to_ , she reminded herself. _He needs this. Just like he needs to test me._

She kept her eyes locked with his, kept her expression from twitching even a millimeter. 

The green magic became fainter and fainter, spiraling in on itself before dissipating like mist, and Loki’s expression hardened into a glare.

Oh, he hated this. _Hated_ it.

The tremble moved through his leg like a wave just before his knee buckled, then lowered in a far more controlled line to the floor. The second one followed like a domino.

His head lowered for a second too—a nice little coda, especially because they hadn’t discussed it.

Only then did Natasha realize her heart had been jumping against her ribs, and not exactly in excitement. Still, she kept her breathing under control. 

Just like on any mission. 

And in a way, was this really any different?

“Okay,” she said. “Okay.”

Loki’s furious gaze followed her as she returned to her chair and nestled back into it with the rubbery grind of leather on leather.

“That was hard for you,” she soothed, leaning forward. “I could see it. But you did well, pet. Really well.”

Only Loki wasn’t looking at her now. His eyes were downcast, the heat in them barely visible through the veil of his thick lashes. ( _Fuck, he has nice eyelashes._ )

Oh, he loved this. _Loved_ this.

Natasha recrossed her leg over her knee.

“Now crawl,” she said. “You filthy little whore.”


	2. Chapter 2

_Five years ago_

“Oh, shit,” Clint groaned, rubbing his hands over his face and earning a disapproving glance from an old man at the table in the corner. “Nat, no. No.”

Well, at least he hadn’t thrown his lifeless Sprite in her face and stormed out. That had to count for something, right?

“Is it just how busy we’ve been?” he asked, lowering his hands along with his voice. “I know you haven’t had time to hit the clubs or see the usual suspects.”

“It’s not that.”

“I mean with New York being this messed-up, have any of them even been open?”

“Clint….”

“But that one you like in Astoria should still be fine. And that one in Brooklyn. So, um, just tell Fury you need some time off and—”

“I really hate it when you act like talking to yourself is the same as listening to me.”

Clint sighed and rubbed his face again. “Nat, this is really hard for me.”

“I know,” she said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand.

He let her, turning his palm up to press against hers. “And confusing.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “ _You’re_ confused?”

“He put me through one of the worst weeks of my life.” Clint’s tone wasn’t accusing or offended, though; merely matter-of-fact. So Natasha made her answer the same way.

“It was one of the worst weeks of mine too.” She took a deep breath. “And, it’s no excuse, but you and I, we know what it’s like to do terrible things to people.” Because Loki had been telling the truth when he’d talked about the red sea her ledger was floating away in.

Clint nodded. “But we always had a reason.”

“Did we?”

Neither of them answered. They didn’t have to.

“Loki was fighting a war,” Natasha went on. “It was a pointless war, and one he started for stupid reasons, but I can’t think of any wars that don’t start out that way, can you?”

Clint’s mouth opened in protest, then wavered, then closed. “That doesn’t mean he’s okay,” he said at last.

“He’s definitely not okay.” Natasha kept her hand where it was while she reached for her drink with the other. “I think he’s the least okay person I’ve ever seen. You remember after Budapest?”

Clint cocked his head. “Define ‘after.’”

“The woman.”

Clint nodded, though his pinched brow said he wasn’t following.

“She was waving that rifle around, yelling something about demons eating her children. We agreed to tranq-dart her instead of taking her down.”

Clint nodded again. “She was having a psychotic break.”

Natasha sat back in her chair and sipped her soda.

“Oh,” he said, holding his hands up, “you’re not….”

She nodded. “Clint, when I was interrogating him, he worked himself up into a fit. At the time I thought something was off about it.”

“That he was just pretending to get angry to wind you up?”

“Oh, he believed he was angry. No, it was more that everything he said about destroying me wasn’t really the point. Later, I remembered something Thor told us. I thought he was joking when he said Loki was adopted.”

“He wasn’t?”

Natasha shook her head. “Turns out, Loki was always kind of a problem kid. You know, like the kind that throws a baseball through the window and blames his brother, even when it’s obvious he’s the guilty one?”

“Only with godlike powers.”

The situation didn’t call for a smile, but Natasha couldn’t help but give him one. There was a reason Clint was her best friend. “Now imagine you have all that power, and you find out your father—or the man you thought was your father—lied to you about everything. Even what species you were.”

“So, he’s not like a…like whatever Asgardians are?”

“Thor said Loki’s heritage wasn’t his to share, but yeah. And as soon as he found that out, apparently he wasn’t the same. He tried to take over Asgard, and when he failed, Thor thought he killed himself.”

“Wait, _thought_ he—”

“You know that rainbow bridge thing that lets him come here? Yeah, Loki jumped off it into space.”

Clint’s eyes widened. “Thor saw that?”

Natasha nodded.   

“Damn,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “Then Loki is even more of a selfish son of a—” 

“You know that’s not true.”

Clint sighed and poked at his shawarma. “Yeah, but it feels like excusing him otherwise.”

“No, we don’t have to. And according to Thor, Asgard isn’t going to, either.” Natasha took another sip of her drink. God, why did she get this every time again? “I’m just saying that if I woke up with that kind of power one day, I’m not sure the world would be safe from me, either.”

“Nat….”

“Please don’t try to tell me you know better, Clint. Please?”

“Okay.” That was another thing she liked about Clint. He knew not to tell her that she was better than she was. “So what you’re saying here is…what, exactly? That you feel sorry for him? That you forgive him?”

“No, not really.” And he knew her better than that to think that sympathy or forgiveness were really in her bailiwick.

“But you understand it. And you’re interested in him.”

“That’s all I know right now.”

“Okay.” Clint nodded. “Okay.”

They both prodded at their cold and now-unappetizing food for a while. And Natasha figured that would be that, until Clint finally gave up and took their lunches to the counter to be boxed up.

“So,” he said when here turned with the bags, “what are you gonna do about all of this?”

“Don’t know.” And it wasn’t a lie. Having an interest in someone didn’t mean anything—even if he had a body that could make a paper bag look like Dolce and Gabbana and eyes that had no business being that striking.

_He’s probably not even a submissive. Do Asgardians—or whatever he is—even know what that means?_

That was an even worse lie than the ones Loki had told her.

“But I’m gonna see him again,” she said as she stood and gathered her jacket.

 

***

Only, she hadn’t been given a chance for a second meeting. SHIELD had concluded that interrogating Loki further was both “a waste of time and, frankly, a pain in the ass,” according to Fury, and Thor had taken him back to Asgard for whatever punishment their father was going to mete out.

“Thank God that’s over,” Clint said after Thor and Loki had vanished. “That guy gives my creeps the creeps.”

“Yeah, he does look like Nosferatu on blow,” Tony agreed as he snapped his sunglasses on. “Anyone feel like some shawarma?”

“What _is_ it with you and that stuff?” Banner asked as he followed Tony to his convertible.

“I dunno. Positive association?”

“That doesn’t make—how does that even make sense?”

The two bantered on, but Natasha didn’t pay any attention as she followed Clint.

Whoever had said a good suit was like lingerie for a man had clearly never seen Loki in that dragon-like Asgardian armor. _Armani would kill to be able make a suit and an evening gown look that good on the same person at the same time._ The UN should hold a special convention to make the way it outlined his waist and hips a crime against humanity.

_As if something else about him needed to be attractive._

But that wasn’t the worst thing about today.

Loki had been glaring at his brother the entire way to Central Park. But right before the Tesseract had beamed them up to Asgard, or however it worked, he had shifted his head to the right and met Natasha’s gaze. This time,  his eyes had been as hard and green as emeralds, but the long eyelashes that fluttered over them had been all desire, and all vulnerability.

Natasha had simply smirked at him and looked over her shoulder, as though Loki’s interest was no more interesting to her than one of the park’s trees or passing joggers.

“Someone really needs to tell Thor that Boys in Leatherland isn’t a military surplus store,” she murmured to Clint, who snickered.

When she looked back to see if he was still staring, both Asgardians had vanished.  

_Did Thor really have to gag him?_ Natasha wondered as she walked. And with a muzzle that looked like something she’d consider buying for a dungeon, if she ever gave up this line of work and opened one?

“Nat?”

Would Loki look at her like that, kneeling on the floor of some SoHo playroom, his mouth stopped up with a ball gag and his hands shackled before him? What would he look like without all that armor? Just as long and lithe and lovely as she’d—

“Nat?” Clint’s hand fluttered before her face. “Yoo-hoo.”

Natasha blinked. “Mh?”

“Are we doing Shawarma Palace again with Tony and Banner? I think Steve said he wanted something ‘more Brooklyn,’ so I’m guessing that meant pizza, but—”

“Uh, no. No, sorry,” Natasha said. “I think I’m just gonna go back to the tower, get some takeout and call it a night.” She pressed a hand to her forehead where a tension headache was prickling.

That, right there, was when you knew a sub wasn’t worth even the thought of taking them on. They worked you up into the not-fun kind of pain.

Clint nodded, as if he’d also heard her thoughts. “Yeah, it’s been a rough few weeks.” He patted her shoulder. “You’ll call?”

“Yeah.” Natasha nodded as she swept a curl out of her eyes. Maybe she’d straighten it tonight. It was as good a distraction as any.

The painkillers took care of her headache before it could crawl the rest of the way around her skull, but even a bottle of Coke—thankfully carbonated this time—and takeout from the city’s best Polish restaurant hadn’t gotten Stormy Eyes off her mind.

And God, when had she last given a nickname to someone she wasn’t domming?

She hoped she was wrong. That this…interest or whatever it was, was just the result of curiosity, or stress, or boredom, or maybe even satisfaction at having tricked a being who prided himself on being humanity’s de facto trickster god. But after tossing and turning for two hours, she gave up on sleep, and on lying to herself again, and pulled out her vibrator. Pressing it against her clit, she closed her eyes and flipped the switch.

_You wanted us to kneel, Stormy?_ she thought, imagining those eyes again. _That’s the funny thing about you, isn’t it? You’re always ordering people to do what you really want someone to make you do._

 

_Present day_

 

Well, she’d made him kneel. But would he do the rest of what they’d discussed?

Natasha waited with her legs crossed, her gaze locked on Loki.

She’d spent a lot of time over the last five years imagining what he’d look like if someone pried him out of all that leather and metal, but reality was, for once, much better than her imagination. His body was long and lean, narrow at the waist and slightly flared at the hips and rear; pale as if he’d never gone out in daylight in less than a full suit of armor—which he probably hadn’t.

_Androgynous._ It had never occurred to her before now, but that was another plus.

_Head in the game._

“I said crawl, whore,” she prodded. “You already debased yourself once. Why stop now?”

Loki’s head jerked up as if her words had yanked him by the hair. Natasha could have sworn his irises roiled like storm clouds.

_Guess I picked a good name at least._

She focused her gaze on them, expressionless, waiting. “It’s your stage, pet. If you don’t wanna act on it—”

Loki lowered his eyes and inched his left hand forward.  
  
Natasha settled back in the chair to watch.

“Good,” she said. “Good boy.”


	3. Chapter 3

_Present day_

_One week ago_

 

A lot could happen in a year.

A lot had happened in _five_ years.

SHIELD had completely fallen apart, infiltrated by a sleeper organization that somehow managed to be even more Nazi than actual Nazis. Tony plan for global defense had not only gone horribly wrong, but had taught itself how to make Disney songs extra creepy. And the Avengers themselves had disbanded—some even becoming wanted criminals.

Oh, and she and Bruce had started dating. Which was….

Well, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Bruce had thought a domme could help him, and he’d been just the kind of male submissive Natasha liked. But then he’d done the one thing she’d asked him never to do—the thing that could end a relationship like theirs faster than anything else.

He’d stopped communicating and run away.

And now he was back. Along with a ship full of Asgardians who had, apparently, just survived the apocalypse.

This didn’t complicate things. Natasha had had enough exes in her life to learn how to keep drama at a minimum, and unlike some of her other colleagues, she wasn’t afraid that asking Bruce to behave like an adult about things would mean unleashing the Hulk.

What complicated things, though, was the fact that the Avengers had all regrouped, since the UN seemed more interested in getting their help with Asgard’s refugees than in enforcing the Sokovia Accords. Not that it would be the first time the UN fell down on the job, but if they could have done it with something that didn’t put Steve and Tony within striking distance of each other, that would’ve been nice.

Natasha sighed as she leaned back in her chair and placed her feet up on the desk. And for some reason, one of those Asgardians now wanted to meet with her about, of all things, a security detail for their new homeland—wherever that would be. Though with the UN currently discussing the matter, Natasha wondered if they’d see an answer in her lifetime.

The stranger question, though, was why Thor would want someone to talk to a human about security. Hadn’t they sent the Tesseract back with him because of Asgardians were better at it? Was that not the case now that their actual realm had been destroyed?

 _No. Something’s weird here_ , Natasha thought as she took a sip of her Coke. It was the same thought she’d been having since Thor had called at eight a.m. to ask if his ambassador could come by after lunch. The problem wasn’t that Thor had an ambassador—of course he would. Anyone with so much to take care of both among his own people and among humans would need a large staff.

The problem was that Thor, who was far too busy to meet with her himself, had been the one to call to arrange a meeting with someone else.

It was so amateurish that Natasha didn’t know what to make of it.

Except that whoever was setting her up here probably wanted her to understand that they were setting her up.

Natasha took another swig of her drink.  

_Or he._

_Two years ago_

 

“He died with honor.”

Thor had wanted to tell them what had happened in Svartalfheim because they were his friends. Natasha understood that, yet she couldn’t help but feel like an intruder on his grief.

Steve laid his hand on Thor’s shoulder and Natasha smiled to herself. That was one of the things she loved about her new friend—how easily he just…gave. It was like reading a good story and wishing you could write like that.

“That’s rough, man,” Tony said, which, given the fact he was Tony, was really nice of him.

Thor nodded his thanks. “It is fitting, I thought, for you all to know.”

Everyone expressed their condolences, even Clint, who, really, had every right to do a fist-pump or twelve. And as Thor recounted the details of Loki’s sacrifice, Natasha hadn’t known what to feel.

She still hadn’t known later that night, well into her second bottle of white wine. Except that all the submissives she’d played with since Loki’s return to Asgard had been worth her time, but not what she wanted.

And the one she’d kept thinking about had only existed in two places: her late-night fantasies and, she had thought, rotting in an Asgardian prison cell.

And the news that he had been rotting, only in a different place, had made the Chardonnay in her liquor cabinet seem like the best idea she’d had all year.

_This is stupid._

Love, she’d told him, was for children, and she’d meant it—mostly. And so was…whatever you called this thing that felt like something between lust and—

_Desire._

No. More like a crush.

Again, something for children.

“This is stupid,” she told the empty room. Only she didn’t know if she meant her thoughts or the two empty wine bottles on the floor beside her.

And she was too drunk to give a damn.

 

_Present Day_

_Two weeks ago_

 

She wished she could spike her Coke with some Bacardi now, but it was only two p.m. and if you didn’t wait at least three more hours, you apparently had a problem.

And with the problem facing her now, she needed to both stay sober and on guard.

Lady Sif had the physique of an Amazon and a sweep of chestnut hair Natasha’s fingers would have loved to tease. Her hazel eyes had a fire that appealed.

_But I prefer storm clouds._

She was also talking.

“With our population just bordering on five hundred, the perimeter should be easy enough to maintain. Though I wish we had the appropriate generators. Can’t be too careful, given that not every member of the UN is exactly thrilled that we’re here. What do you think, Agent Romanoff?”

And there it was. The briefest curl of a grin. Not that she’d needed the clue.

“I think,” she said, slow, deliberate, “that you should tell me why you’re really here—Loki.”

Sif hesitated, head cocked forward and to the side, lips parted in mid-breath and eyebrows raised. For a moment, Natasha thought she was going to deny it. But then that breathless surprise shifted into a sharp grin and a familiar breathy chuckle.

Natasha’s heart pulsed as Sif rose from her chair and straightened, her image beveling into a crystal gold from which pale skin and ink swirls of hair emerged. Her eyes were the last to change.

This time, they were a perfect steel blue.

She approved of it.

His black suit, not so much.

Still smiling, Loki spread his hands to his sides, palms up, all _aw shucks, you got me_. “Ta-da. Though I am curious, Agent Romanoff.” His hands drifted to his stomach, laced, and spread across it like a shield. “What was it that made you realize?”

“Well, the fact your brother hadn’t hired an executive assistant was a pretty big tell. Just as you intended.”

“Ohh,” Loki breathed, “very good, Agent. You were always the smart Avenger.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“ _And_ the no-nonsense one. Though, really, no ‘I’m glad to see you, Loki’? ‘I’m happy to know that reports of your death were greatly exaggerated’?”

“I don’t have time for this, Loki, and I don’t like to repeat myself.” Natasha placed her hands on the conference table and stood.

“Yes, that’s it. That look you just gave me.”

Natasha stopped in midreach for her Coke bottle and looked at him. “What?”

Loki nodded. “I wasn’t sure. Well, let’s say ninety, ninety-two percent sure. But that look just confirmed it.”

“You’re getting really bad at this lie-smith gig,” Natasha said as she picked up the bottle. “That didn’t even make sense.”

“Oh, but I think it did.”

Natasha froze in midstep toward the door.

The smile that flitted across Loki’s face was hesitant, almost…shy? “Three minutes,” he said. “Just three minutes of your time, Agent, please. And if you don’t like what I have to say, I will leave and never bother you again.”

“Really bad at it,” Natasha said as she returned to the chair. “Two minutes.” She moved her gaze to the pendulum wall clock. “I’m timing.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” Loki took a deep breath and shook his arms out, as if readying for a bout. “I know why you visited me that second time.” Natasha raised her eyebrow. “There, you did it again. That look. That same look you gave me from outside that ridiculous fishbowl of a prison.”

“What look?”

“Like you want to crush me beneath your heel. And let me assure you, Agent Romanov, I would be _very_ interested in being crushed.”

Well.

She’d expected almost anything to come out of Loki’s mouth.

That hadn’t been on the list.

“You’re gaping at me.” Loki’s grin became more confident. “I’m right, aren’t I? You see,” he went on before Natasha could answer ( _Thank God_ , because she really had no idea what kind of comeback that deserved.). “I didn’t understand it at first, and it troubled me.” He gestured meaninglessly at the table. “I’m not overly fond of not understanding things. I mulled that look over for _years_ , Agent. Why something about it seemed so…pleased. And why, though it enraged me, it also pleased me. And two weeks ago, I finally understood the reason—at least on my end.”

His grin softened into something like indulgence. “You’re still gaping at me, you know. And aren’t you going to ask how I came to that understanding?”

Natasha slowly closed her mouth. “You’ve got one minute to explain.” She hoped that sounded authoritative.

“Our sister is—was—terribly unpleasant. When Thor and I attempted to escape her, she pursued and hurled us both off the Bifrost. Luckily I landed, almost literally, in the lap of a half-mad tyrant who was in the midst of watching a battle between two gladiators. When I fell through the ceiling of his private chamber, he told me I was far more interesting than the brawl in the arena—and far more attractive than either contestant.

“Before it had even ended, he dragged me off to his bedchamber.”

Natasha stomped out that little spark of jealousy before it could touch wood. “Tony would probably be more interested in critiquing your submission to _Penthouse Letters_ than—”

“Where he spent the entire evening chaining me to various pieces of furniture and slapping me.” Loki chuckled. “Among other things.”

Well, too late. The fire was already creeping up the drapes.

“Time’s up,” Natasha said and turned to leave.

Hoping he’d say something else to stop her.

“I don’t think you understand, Agent. That was my first sexual experience.”

And there it was. “Now I know you’re lying.”

Though from the way those stormy eyes lidded, perhaps not.

“I’m from Asgard,” Loki said, his tone softer now, his gaze down at his hands as they twitched against each other. “Sex is our favorite pastime, right after feasting and fighting, and any who don’t partake are considered, at best, strange, and at worst, deviant. That being the case, what would prompt me to tell you such a fantastic story but the truth?”

Natasha folded her arms over her chest. “All right. So you’re, what, a two-thousand-year-old virgin?”

“Give or take a few centuries. I’ve never properly understood what an Asgardian equivalent of one of your years is…” A shudder passed over him. “Was, I mean.”

And just like that, he’d poured ice water over not just the curtains, but the entire living room. With all his smirking and sarcasm, it was easy to forget what he’d just lost.

Natasha sighed. “Okay. Go on.”

Loki raised his head, something like relief passing over his expression. “This is…very difficult for me to talk about, Agent Romanov. But I think you’ve heard that before, from others like me.”

“And what would you and those others call yourselves?”

Loki sucked his lower lip into his mouth.

“If you’re not going to say it, then you aren’t ready to ask what you’re going to ask me.”

“Submissive,” Loki said, then went back to chewing his lip. His pale skin had taken on a sheen and his pupils had spread, leaving just a thin ring of blue. “At least, I think so. That is the proper term, yes? You can imagine, I’ve had precious little time since our arrival to search the internet.”

She nodded. “And why are you coming to me with this? I’m hardly the only dominant in New York City.”

“Because, if I’m not mistaken, you are just as interested in me as I am in you.” The smile that flittered across his lips was all charm, all honey. “Or can you truthfully say that the thought of slapping me around is unappealing?”

Well, no. No, she couldn’t.

Natasha folded her arms across her chest and smiled to herself as Loki’s gaze flickered down to her breasts. “How do I know you can take orders?”

His grin faltered. “I don’t follow.”

“You Asgardians, you’re the basis of some fairy tales here on Earth, right?”

“Well, really. We can’t help it if your species has an overactive imagina—”

“And in these stories,” Natasha said, moving toward him, “people usually have to pass three tests to prove their worth, right?”

Loki pursed his lips and tilted his head from side to side.

“All right. I’ll give you a session—just one—if you do three things for me.”

Loki chuckled. “That is usually for heroes, Agent Romanov. Are you making me the hero in this tale, not the damsel in distress?”

“If I thought you were in distress, I wouldn’t be offering. First, I don’t like that suit.”

Loki blinked. Blinked again. “I’m sorry…what?”

“I don’t like it,” Natasha said, and it was true. “It’s plain. Boring. I’ve seen a hundred like it today and I’ve only looked out the window twice.”

“Well”—he smirked, hands moving to his tie—“I could rectify that.”

“Change into what you were wearing when I last saw you.”

“A fan of the classics, I see.”

“And so are you. That’s the other part of the reason I’m asking.”

Loki’s smirk widened as golden light shimmered across his form. When it dissipated, that strange leather outfit had returned, clinging to him like an evening gown, fitting him like the most stylish of suits.

“Well.” Loki’s voice was husky and more confident now, as if he, too, knew just how good he looked. “That was easy. And the second task?”

“Wait.”

Loki cocked his head again. “I am waiting. What is it?”

“Wait for two weeks.”

His head jerked back. “I’m sorry, what?”

“This is all new to you, and I don’t mean just dominance and submission. A lot’s happened to you in the last month, in a lot of ways. So I want you to really think about it; be sure about what you want.”

“But, Agent Romanov, I’ve been waiting for, what, five of your years?”

“Then two more weeks shouldn’t be a problem. Just think of it as having more time to get acquainted with StarkSearch. If you change your mind about doing this, just call me. You apparently already have my office number. There’s no shame in that, by the way,” she said, her voice a bit softer when Loki shifted on his feet. “It just means you changed your mind, and that’s your prerogative.”

“Oh.” Loki’s jaw clenched, but he nodded as if mulling this over. “And the third thing?”

“You’re only going to use your hands for typing. No getting off without me.”

“Okay, now you’ve _got_ to be joking. How in the nine worlds will you know if I—”

“I’ll know.” His body language really sucked when he was nervous or uncertain. Natasha was kind of amazed that he’d never realized.

Loki raked a hand through his hair, his chuckle incredulous. “This is absurd.”

“Those are my terms.” Natasha crossed her arms again. “And if they become unreasonable to you, just give me a call. Again, no harm, no foul if you decide this isn’t for you.”

“And if I am obedient in this for two weeks, what then?”

“Then you call me at noon on Monday two weeks later and we arrange a place and time to meet. I’ll take care of the location.” She was reasonably sure Pepper would let them use her playroom, and if not, dungeons in New York City weren’t too hard to rent for a few hours, even if the sticker shock could be brutal. “Then we’ll discuss what scene we’ll do, what hard limits we have, and any questions you’ve got for me.”

Loki nodded, though he didn’t look too happy.

“You’ll thank me for this later,” Natasha promised. _“Sesame Street_ has a video on something called ‘delayed gratification.’ You should watch it. Can you do all of this?”

He huffed out a sigh as if she’d just asked him to do her taxes while cooking her a five-course meal. “Very well.”

“Okay, then.” She went back to her desk and sat, then opened her Coke bottle again.

“Um, Agent Romanoff?”

“You have another question?” she asked as she tipped it back toward her mouth.

“Are you—you’re dismissing me?”

“I think we’re done here, don’t you? Tell Thor I said hi—and to send the real Lady Sif next time.”

Loki sucked in a breath, and when Natasha didn’t respond, his footsteps retreated. Seconds later, the door to the conference room closed.

_Well, that was interesting._

Natasha shifted her position on the leather chair to put less pressure on her aching clit. She almost wished she hadn’t insisted that he wait two weeks. But that wouldn’t have been right, she reminded herself as she swiveled in her chair to watch the suits of New York stride past below. Loki needed to think this through; to make sure he really wanted what he thought he did.

After all, a half-mad despot couldn’t have been anything approaching a good dominant. He’d probably given Loki all sorts of terrible expectations and a lot of confusion.

_Maybe you should be helping get him unconfused, then._

No. Loki was a big boy. He could do his own homework.

But two weeks was still going to be a very long time.

 

_Present day_

With one more shift of a knee, Loki reached the base of the dais on which Natasha’s chair rested and knelt, gazing down at his hands. With his head bowed and all that lovely dark hair veiling his face, he was the picture of demureness and submission.

“Good pet,” Natasha praised, reaching down and running a hand through those waves. They were full-bodied soft to the touch now, not at all greasy as they’d looked the last time they’d met. She twined her fingers through them, gripped, and tugged, hauling Loki’s face up. When their eyes met, his were still a firestorm green.

“Now you know what to do,” she said with a smirk. “Get across my lap.”

Loki’s glare turned into a fluttery-eyed moan as she yanked his hair again.

Natasha chuckled. “Now who’s the mewling quim?”


End file.
